


Thawing The Ice Man

by sanguisuga



Series: Sang's Holiday Offerings [2]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And Everyone is Sickeningly Happy, And Extremely Efficient, And To All A Good Fuck, Christmas Miracles, Happy Christmas to All, Kissing, M/M, Mycroft is Surprisingly Oblivious, Mystrade Advent Calendar 2017, Oral Sex, Realisations are um... Realised, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, of a sort, pre-Mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Mycroft is stranded at his little brother's flat in the middle of a surprise snowstorm. The situation is entirely untenable, but then again, perhaps the company he is forced to endure will help lift his spirits...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story I was originally planning for this Mystradian gala was getting a bit too out of hand and so I turned to a couple of well-loved tropes that I hadn't tackled yet - 'snowed in' and 'bed-sharing'. Hopefully it will suffice! 
> 
> Thank you to the organisers of the Mystrade Advent Calendar for the opportunity to write up some silly Christmas fluff! (Not that there's much mention of the holiday in the story itself... *sheepish grin*)

“Ridiculous.”

“Hrm? Whazzat?”

“This entire situation. It is completely ridiculous. Utter nonsense, even.”

Greg shifted under the covers, rolling slightly in the dim light of the solitary bed lamp to glance over at his reluctant bed partner. Mycroft was stiffly laid out on top of John’s duvet with his hands folded over his stomach, still fully clothed - even down to his immaculate shoes. Greg tugged on the covers in the vain hope of getting a bit more up over his bare shoulders. Not being able to budge them even the slightest little bit, he opted for wriggling down in the bed instead, burrowing in deeper with a little sigh.

“M’sorry you’re stuck here with me. If it weren’t so nasty out there...”

Mycroft sighed deeply. “Quite. Even I am not so heartless as to demand that my driver risk life and limb simply to rescue me from my own brother’s flat in the middle of a surprise blizzard.”

“It was a nice do, though. Before all this white shit started coming down, of course. Sherlock was...”

“Hospitable, yes. Much more so than I expected.”

Greg hummed his agreement, his eyes fluttering sleepily. “Festive, even. Christmas crackers and all.” He grinned at the mental image of the normally antagonistic Holmes brothers decked out in paper crowns, their cheeks pink as they eyed each other with uncharacteristic fondness. “Maybe if you two hadn't been having so much fun, you would’ve noticed the snow earlier and been able to skip out.” Greg shrugged idly at Mycroft’s halfhearted glare and yawned faintly. “It was kind of John to offer up his bed even if we have to share, and I’m glad that Mrs. Hudson had an extra one for Molls.”

Mycroft snorted. “I would be hard-pressed to consider this ‘John’s bed’, since he hasn’t slept in it for a good six months.”

Greg giggled sleepily. “No shit?” He shook his head as Mycroft made a vaguely affirmative noise. “Good for them, ‘bout damn time.” He hummed vaguely. “Can’t imagine that Sherlock’s bed is all that comfy with that bony git in it, though. All knees and elbows and hogging the covers. Probably steals pillows too, the selfish prat.”

“I hardly think that comfort is the appeal, Lestrade.” Mycroft’s voice was dry, and he was forced to smother his own smile as Greg’s giggles turned into guffaws, shaking the bed underneath them. After the merriment had passed, he cleared his throat quietly. “I did notice that you and Miss Hooper arrived together. Are you and she - um?”

“Um?” Greg chortled again. “No, there’s no _um_. I had to stop by the morgue to drop off some paperwork, and we decided to share a cab. That’s all.” Greg paused, biting his lip. “Molly is very sweet, but she’s really not my type.”

“Oh?” Mycroft winced at the forced casualness of his voice, but soldiered on nonetheless. “I suppose you prefer blondes, then?”

Greg tilted his head as he rolled onto his back, blinking over at Mycroft languidly. “I prefer gingers, actually. Lovely furry gingers. But dark hair will do in a pinch - just so long as it’s all over.”

Mycroft nearly choked. “Furry?”

“As in hairy chests, yeah? Hell, Holmes - I thought that you would have deduced that I go for blokes ages ago.”

Mycroft let out a soft sound, something wondering and inquisitive and hopeful all at once. He also felt the stiffness in his spine wobble into a far more natural posture. _“Oh.”_

“Christ.” Greg started to dig his way out from under the covers. “I’ve gone and made you uncomfortable. I’ll just go sleep on the sofa, yeah?”

“No!” Mycroft recovered himself quickly, lowering the volume of his voice so that it would not echo through the room again. “I assure you that I am not at all uneasy. Besides, we are both far too middle-aged for either of us to be able to tolerate that creaky old sofa without turning into little more than a block of stone in the dead of night.”

“Ta for that.” Greg conceded to Mycroft’s knowing look with a wry grin. “True, though.” He buried himself under the covers again, peeking out over the fluffy duvet. “Not that you’re doing yourself any favours lying there in that fancy suit of yours in this draughty old room.” He shook his head as Mycroft visibly shivered, his hands briefly clenching into fists. “Your nose is going over all blue.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, tentatively running his fingers over the buttons on his waistcoat. “I...”

Greg huffed and resolutely turned his back. “I won’t watch, how’s that? Just strip down and get into this bed before bits start falling off you.”

Mycroft creakily rolled to his feet, his chilled fingers fumbling at his clothing. “Such a fanciful imagination you possess, Detective Inspector.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

Mycroft shivered, although he wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because of the low, dirty tone in Lestrade’s voice. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over a nearby chair, swallowing hard as Greg took the opportunity to pull the covers up until nothing but his spiky silver hair was visible. Mycroft forced himself to take his time, although his intermittent shuddering and the almost painful puckering of his skin didn’t help matters at all.

He wasn’t even sure why he had persisted in denying himself this most basic of comfort - probably out of some mistaken sense of pride, or perhaps even honour. Lestrade was clearly a much more practical man. This was the situation that they had found themselves in, and he obviously felt that there was no reason to stand on some outdated sense of chivalry when there was a warm bed to be shared. Greg had taken one look around the room and had skimmed off his jeans and jumper with enviable self-assuredness, sliding between the sheets in nothing but his well-fitted boxer briefs.

Mycroft’s mouth had gone utterly dry upon seeing Lestrade in that state, and he’d had to pace by the side of the bed for a moment or two in order to will away his inconvenient if all too predictable reaction. After years of the Detective Inspector starring in Mycroft’s personal fantasies, he suddenly found himself alone with the man within easy reach, and furthermore, possibly open to any advances he may care to make.

In all of the years that they had known each other, Mycroft had consoled himself with the thought that a liaison or dare he even think it, a relationship, with Lestrade was simply unattainable. Outwardly straight as an arrow, married for fifteen years to a stupidly adulterous woman before finally conceding defeat via a divorce. Although with this new information, perhaps the blame for the failure of their union hadn’t rested entirely on her shoulders.

Mycroft shook himself as he finally slipped his trousers off, running his hands down the sides of his vest and plucking nervously at the waistband of his pants. Before he could think on it too hard and possibly frighten himself into retreating, he hurriedly slid into the bed, turning his back on the enticing lump that grumbled at him approvingly. The silence that followed seemed to thicken the atmosphere around them, but perhaps that was entirely in Mycroft’s imagination.

Still shivering minutely, he tried to get a bit comfier, stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes. Mycroft jumped as he unknowingly made contact with his bed-mate’s skin, generating a startled yelp.

“Christ Almighty, it’s like being in bed with a snowman!”

The apologies died away from Mycroft’s lips as his feet were quickly captured between Greg’s calves, and he shuddered from top to toe, letting out an indiscriminate noise of relief.

_“Hnghhh...”_

Lestrade’s chuckle once again made the mattress vibrate minutely, but Mycroft could only stifle his groan into his pillow as his ice-cold feet were gently chafed between those strong legs, restoring his blood flow. He squirmed slightly as said blood started to gather in one place in particular, biting his lip hard in an attempt to distract himself. But of course his efforts were entirely in vain, and he simply let himself feel whatever wild emotions this unexpected and suddenly delightful situation was dredging up for him.

Mycroft continued to shiver, feeling almost as though the cold atmosphere had sunk deep into his bones despite the bright spots of warmth in his lower legs. His teeth started to chatter as he took in a deep breath, wrapping his arms around himself. “Lestrade, I w-wonder if per-perhaps...”

Greg rolled over, sidling in closer and grimacing at the cold he could feel radiating through Mycroft’s vest even from a good foot away. “Greg.”

Mycroft shuddered hard, his teeth clacking together as Lestrade’s gruff voice seemed to strike right to the core of him. “W-what?”

“We’re about to get _very_ familiar, Mycroft. I think it’s well past time we graduated to calling each other by our first names.”

“Ah.” Mycroft nodded to show that he understood, and in the next moment, Greg closed the small distance that lingered between them. He planted his torso firmly against Mycroft’s back and tucked his legs up behind his knees, scrunching them both into a tidy little ball underneath the covers. After ensuring that all of the layers were tucked in around the both of them, Greg slipped his arm around Mycroft’s waist, pulling him in tight and leaving him no room to wiggle away.

Not that he wanted to, of course. Hell, he just might not leave this bed ever again.

Although he still let out the odd shake and shiver, the warmth of the body plastered to his back immediately started to seep into his skin, and Mycroft breathed out a low sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Greg grunted faintly in his ear, and Mycroft gave out another shudder that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. “No need for thanks, Mycroft. Couldn’t have the British Government getting frostbite on my watch.”

“I’m not -” Mycroft let his voice drift away as Greg chuckled behind him. “Very well, but I do believe that this is well above your regular call of duty.”

“Get me a pay rise and we’ll call it even.”

Mycroft let out a little snort of laughter that induced the both of them into a giggle fit. He strove desperately not to focus on the sensation of Greg’s body moving against his own, but they were so tightly pressed together that it was quite impossible.

Greg huffed and loosened his grip, leaning back slightly. He grinned at the noise of protest that slipped past Mycroft’s lips, mentally wagging a finger at himself for his boldness and silently praying that it would pay off.

“Right. That’s your backside done. Turn over.”

Mycroft started to shiver again. “W-what?”

“Turn over so I can warm the other side.”

“Um.” Mycroft thought of all the things he could say to preserve his dignity and perhaps honour - _‘I hardly think that’s necessary,’_ or _‘Thank you, this is quite sufficient,’_ but of course the words all died away as he realised what a fool he would be not to take full advantage of this situation. If nothing else happened between them, if they never even spoke about this in the future, he would still be able to treasure the memory of being held in Gregory Lestrade’s arms for one entire night.

Taking in a deep breath, he started to shift onto his back, keeping his eyes downcast as he rolled over fully. But then that may have been a mistake, as his gaze caught the dark line of hair trailing from Lestrade’s navel and disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Mycroft dragged his eyes back up before they could linger too long on what was even further below, knowing that he’d be all but lost. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Greg’s face, focusing his gaze firmly on his sternum and quite definitely not on the dusky nipples that had started to perk up as the cool air of the room invaded their cosy little cocoon.

Mycroft kept his hands pulled up to his chest as he scooted closer, hesitating only briefly before sticking his nose into the hollow of Greg’s throat as he obligingly lifted his chin to grant him access. With a startled hiss of, “ _Christ_ , you’re still freezing,” Greg pulled him in even closer, wrapping both arms around him and throwing a leg up over his hip for good measure.

Mycroft froze solid for just a moment, but the heat of Greg’s body was simply too divine to resist, and he melted into him, muffling his groan against the pulse point in his neck. Greg shivered against him, and although he was still careful to keep his groin angled away lest he embarrass himself, Mycroft slowly slid one arm around his waist and up, splaying his hand between his shoulder blades.

Greg let out a breathy sigh, the stubble on his chin brushing against Mycroft’s temple. “Oh, but isn’t that so much better?”

Mycroft hummed in acknowledgement, somehow just becoming aware that his hair was being stroked gently. He blinked rapidly, inhaling the scent of Lestrade’s aftershave, exhaling against his throat, suddenly conscious of every square inch of their bare skin that was touching, knowing that he needed more, realising that perhaps Greg needed it too. But how to begin?

Bolstering himself and fighting to still the wild butterflies in his stomach, Mycroft began to trace light circles over Greg’s back, immensely gratified to hear him suck in a harsh breath and feel him let it out with a shudder. “Gregory...”

“Y-yes, Mycroft?”

“Do you believe in Christmas miracles?”

There was a long pause, and when he answered, there was a hint of laughter underlying the seriousness of Greg’s voice. “I think I could be persuaded to.”

Mycroft smiled as he tilted his head, pressing his lips to the spot of cold that his nose had left behind on Greg’s throat. _‘Convince me,’_ Greg was saying without speaking. _‘Make me believe.’_ Pondering the sudden change in his fortunes, sending up a silent thanks to the unseen forces that had afforded him this opportunity, Mycroft pushed Greg onto his back and quickly set about making his own brand of Christmas cheer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the evening continues...

Greg rolled without protest, his body loose and easy and utterly pliable underneath him. He lifted his knees as Mycroft nudged his way between his thighs, bracketing them around his hips. Mycroft fought the urge just to grind down onto him like some lust-addled teenager, propping himself up on hands and knees as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Greg’s.

What he saw there actually made his breath catch in his throat. Lust, certainly, but that open hunger was tempered with something soft and amused - fond, even. Mycroft frowned slightly as those warm chocolate eyes widened and then crinkled around the edges with Greg’s quiet chuckle of disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that I’m _fond_ of you, you berk.” Mycroft felt his face flush with heat, biting his lip hard to keep any other subconscious musings trapped behind his teeth. Greg tilted his head, his hands sliding up over Mycroft’s ribs. “You didn’t know?” There was another snort of laughter. “Christ. How can you Holmes boys be so brilliant and yet so bloody thick at the same time?”

Mycroft huffed, striving to conceal the tiny sparks of pleasure that were lighting up in his brain with each pass of Greg’s fingers. “Certain factors are generally not taken into account when making our deductions.”

“Factors like human emotion.” Greg shook his head. “That’s a pretty big blind spot you’ve got there, Mycroft.”

“That is something that I am beginning to understand for myself.”

Greg’s expression tightened in consternation. “To your detriment?”

Mycroft smiled sharply, shaking his head with conviction. “It seems to be working very much in my favour tonight.” He spread his legs as he lowered himself, rocking his hips down and forward, grinding their groins together. He suppressed a low moan as Greg’s eyes fluttered, the cords in his neck standing out as his head was thrown back. “I am immeasurably fond of you as well, Gregory. I - I have been for a number of years. I never thought...” Mycroft cut himself off as his throat began to tighten, his eyes prickling with unfamiliar heat and moisture.

“Hey.” Greg reached up, swiping his thumbs under Mycroft’s eyes. “It’s all right. Later - we can talk all you want or need. But let’s set that all aside for now so you can bloody well finish what you started here.” He squeezed his legs around Mycroft’s hips as he let out a startled snort of laughter.

Mycroft abruptly pushed away, settling back on his knees as he raked his eyes over Greg’s nearly naked body. “Quite right - that’s enough foreplay. Let’s get on with it.”

Greg giggled madly as Mycroft reached for the waistband of his pants, but he was all too willing to lift his hips to aid in their hasty removal. “You great git - that’s what you consider foreplay?”

Mycroft tilted his head as he looked down, swallowing against the sudden influx of saliva that had flooded his mouth when he first laid eyes on Gregory Lestrade in his full glory. Trailing his fingers down Greg’s treasure trail, he delicately ran the tips over the member that was plumping up rather nicely at the attention. Biting his lip, Mycroft wrapped his hand around it and gave it a nice hard squeeze, feeling a strangely anticipatory twinge in his backside. “Oh, I suppose I can indulge you with a stroke or two.”

“Christ, that isn’t what I - _hnghh_ \- meant.” Greg’s head rolled about on the pillow as his hips rocked up, pushing his cock into Mycroft’s relentless grip. He wheezed out a groan, shaking his head as he forced himself to go still. “Come here.” Greg reached for him, clucking his tongue as Mycroft hesitated. “Permit me one more indulgence, and then you can do anything you want with me.” He grinned cheekily as Mycroft sucked in an excited breath. “I swear. Just... Come here.”

As reluctant as he was to relinquish his prize, Mycroft could not deny that he was intrigued, and so with a parting squeeze he once again crouched over Greg’s body, planting his hands on either side of his torso. He blinked rapidly as Greg cradled his face in both hands, running his thumbs over his cheeks before starting to draw him even further down.

_Oh. Oh, yes._ Still, Mycroft resisted just a moment longer, knowing that once their lips touched, there would be absolutely no recovery of his icy charade, that it might only be a matter of days if not hours before he would be utterly lost in this man. Christmas miracles, indeed.

“It’ll be okay.” Mycroft’s chest hitched as he allowed himself to sink a bit further down, hovering just a few inches from Greg’s face. Those unfathomably deep brown eyes looked up at him, open and honest and still fondly amused. “Mycroft. Trust me?”

Mycroft’s eyes fluttered against Greg’s warm breath. “I do, heaven help me - with absolutely everything that I am.” Letting go of his tension, of his absurd worries and foolish doubts, Mycroft closed his eyes and took the plunge, laying the weight of his body down and allowing Greg to guide him.

The kiss started sweetly enough, just a gentle pressure of lips moving against his, a low hum of pleasure as their noses brushed against each other. A slight tilting, a grunted entreaty, and Mycroft parted his lips, his senses reeling as Greg’s tongue slipped inside his mouth, deftly insistent and supremely skilled. Mycroft shuddered as Greg’s fingers moved up into his hair, feeling almost as though they were singeing his skin, so very hot against his chilly flesh. Slipping his hands under Greg’s strong shoulders, Mycroft opened himself up for further exploration, writhing against his hardness down below and melting into the heat of his embrace.

Hot, oh he was so hot and hungry, verging on the edge of greedy, but there was something else there in the slick slide of his tongue, in the pressure of his lips and eager nips of his teeth. A wistful longing, a feeling of profound relief, a giddy realisation - and a promise of more, if it was welcome.

Mycroft struggled to demonstrate just how much the offer was appreciated, moaning low in his chest as he pressed down harder, as he poured as much of himself into the kiss as he could. They broke away with harsh gasps for air, and Mycroft couldn’t help but return the hopelessly endearing grin that was aimed up at him, his heart thumping in his chest as Greg’s eyes darkened even further.

“Lots more where that came from, Mr. Holmes. Endless supply, in fact.” Greg growled quietly as he tilted his hips up, cheekily rubbing against Mycroft’s erection. “But I do believe that I interrupted something rather important...”

Mycroft paused to control his breathing, nodding his head curtly. “Quite. It’s well past time your cock was in my mouth.”

He wriggled down as Greg jolted underneath him. “ _Christ_. You don’t mess about, do you?”

“Not when I have a clear objective in mind, no.” Mycroft slithered under the covers without another word, pulling them up and over his head. He let out a quiet sigh as the warmth enveloped him and took a moment simply to breathe in Greg’s basest scent, enhanced by their prior activities and the body heat that had been trapped by the bedding.

Running his hands down the insides of Greg’s thighs, he nudged them further apart, humming low as they obligingly spread wide. There was a harsh gasp up above as Mycroft leant in, pressing his nose to the base of Greg’s cock and flickering his tongue over his bollocks. He groaned as the taste flooded his senses, musky and earthy and so very male. God, how long had it been?    

Mycroft had been quite the aficionado at this particular act while at University, finding himself to be rather popular among a certain subset of the student body. Although the attention this garnered him couldn’t always be seen as a positive, any unpleasantness had been easy to overlook in favour of the rather effusive praise he received for his natural talents. It wasn’t until he had made serious inroads on his burgeoning political career that he had reluctantly put a stop to such extracurriculars.

Past a certain age, such activities were no longer considered simply the passing whim of a young hot-blooded male with limited options. No, then they were little more than opportunities for blackmail, and of course Mycroft valued his lofty ambitions far above any of his basest desires. He’d had the odd dalliance here and there in the years since, but they had all been one-offs for the most part. There had been none who had captured his fancy in the manner that this man had, and to suddenly find that said fancy was apparently mutual nearly made him giddy with nervous excitement.

Mycroft did what he could to shake off any impending nerves as the game was already well on its way and there would be no turning back now. He was fully intent on following through and quite possibly winning himself the greatest prize he could dare to dream of. Taking in another deep breath, Mycroft began mapping out this exciting new territory with nose and lips, his tongue flickering out to stake a claim here and there.

Although there was a corner of his mind that was taking note of each groan or flutter of muscle and the action that preceded each so that he would better understand how to take this delicious man apart in the days to come, for the most part Mycroft simply explored with the intention of enjoying himself. He lost himself in the feel of heated skin, in the smell of Greg’s desire, in the taste of his arousal, in the delightful weight of him against his tongue.  

He tested his limits by swallowing him down in increments, muscle memory guiding him how best to angle his head, how to curl his tongue just so and making sure to seal his lips firmly around Greg’s rather impressive girth. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Mycroft pushed himself down just a bit farther, humming in satisfaction as the head of Greg’s cock nudged its way down his throat. He pulled off with a gasp as Greg let out a muffled curse, his left leg curling over his back and pulling him in tighter.

Mycroft found himself blinking against light and a wave of cool air as the blankets were lifted, Greg staring down at him with his dark eyes gone absolutely wild. Mycroft quickly ducked his face into the cradle of Greg’s groin, suddenly coming over bashful for no reason that he could easily ascertain.

“Oh no... No, don’t you hide away from me.” With the softest of touches, Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair and down his cheek, cradling his jaw and lifting up his face. “You fucking marvel - you gorgeous mad thing.” He ran his thumb over spit-slickened lips, an oddly broken squeak pushing from his throat as Mycroft’s tongue flickered out to lap at it. “M’close, babe. Just a little bit more - let me _see_ you.”

_Babe._ The word echoed oddly through Mycroft’s brain, telegraphing victory before he had even completed the task at hand. Had he won his prize already? No - that was still waiting for him, that heady feeling of raw power as a strong body thrashed helplessly underneath him, the soft rush of bitter fluid that inexplicably warmed him so deep inside.

He smiled sharply as Greg tapped the head of his cock against his chin, opening his mouth and ducking his head as he sucked him back in. Mycroft teased at him with a few fleeting bobs of his head, shivering as Greg grinned down at him crookedly, his fingers trembling as they wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Please. Oh God, _please_.”

Mycroft’s eyes fluttered at the raw note of need in Greg’s voice, and he let them slip shut as he sank down, humming low as crisp salt-and-pepper curls tickled at his nose. Sealing his mouth tight around the base of Greg’s cock, Mycroft swallowed hard, his throat contracting around the hard weight of him.

Greg jerked minutely underneath him, his fingers clutching at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Fffff- _uck!_ Open your eyes, look at me oh Jesus _look at me..._ ”

Mycroft opened his eyes wide, meeting Greg’s intense stare and feeling a wild surge of joy as his cock jumped in his throat. Greg’s face crumpled into itself and then opened up again, his eyes rolling back and his mouth dropping open, unable to say anything more than “Mycr-” before he was coming.

The rolling ‘r’ began as a soft purr that was sustained with each pulse of Greg's cock, continuing on and on as Mycroft swallowed and sucked and swallowed some more, turning into a feral growl of pleasured delight as he finally stopped twitching. The sheer bestiality of the vocalisation made Mycroft’s bollocks contract close to his body as his own arousal instantly became forefront in his mind.

With his just rewards sitting heavily in his belly and his glorious trophy lolling thickly against his cheek, Mycroft snaked a hand underneath his body and took hold of himself, moaning his pleasure into Greg’s lower belly. He was barely even aware of the strong hands roughly manhandling him upward in the bed, mindlessly rubbing against shin and thigh and groin as he slid over Greg’s body.

Mycroft found himself perched atop Greg’s waist, somehow miraculously sans his pants, his own hand wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking himself in long, leisurely pulls. He huffed out a laugh as Greg scrabbled at his vest, slithering out of it with ease as it was yanked over his head.

“Oh fuck _yes_.” Mycroft groaned as Greg’s thick fingers buried themselves in his abundant chest hair, his dark eyes lighting up with fierce delight. “My perfect furry little ginger-bear.”

Mycroft squinted one eye closed, wishing that he could dredge up some sense of outrage over the complete nonsense that had just fallen so blithely from Greg’s lips. But none came. Indeed, he found that it lit something up deep inside him, a hidden whimsy sparking to life. From anyone else, it would have been absurd and laughable, but from this man...

Well, it was still absurd, but it was by no means unwelcome. Shaking his head, Mycroft slipped his dirty fingers into Greg’s mouth, soiled with pre-ejaculate and reeking of sweat. Greg’s eyes rolled back in bliss, and Mycroft let out a short whoop of surprise as there were hot hands suddenly clamped over his backside. He shuffled forward on his knees as he was yanked closer, looking down and reeling slightly as he was eyed with stark hunger.

Spitting out his fingers, Greg licked his lips and panted hot breath over his bits. “Gimmegimmegimme.” Mycroft simply stared in mute disbelief even as his cock twitched against Greg’s chin. “For fuck’s sake, Mycroft. Give. It. To. Me!”

Mycroft took in a deep breath and let it out with a tentative thrust between those cheeky lips, stifling his groan with the heel of his hand. Seemingly taking that as a challenge, Greg dug his fingers into the meat of Mycroft’s arse, encouraging him to fuck his mouth by pulling him in and pushing him out in short rocking motions.

Mycroft swiftly picked up on his rhythm, but he couldn’t resist ramping it up, pushing in harder and faster as Greg sucked at him messily. There was such heat in Greg’s eyes that Mycroft’s senses reeled with it, becoming overwhelmed by his obvious need to see him come, to be the one to _make_ him come. The muscles in Mycroft’s thighs started to shake as he looked down into those darkly feral eyes, bracing one hand against the wall and burying the fingers of the other into thick silver hair. “Oh God, Gre-”

Greg growled throatily, pulling him in deep, and Mycroft could only hold on, his body curling in on itself as his skin prickled with heat, every tiny hair standing on end with the intensity of his orgasm. The white spots had barely cleared from his vision when he felt strong arms encircle his waist and he shivered as Greg panted hot, ocean-scented breath between them. He held him as though he never wanted to let him go, nuzzling at the juncture of his thigh and groin and murmuring nonsense into his sweaty skin.

Mycroft caught his breath as best as he could, slowly dragging his fingernails over Greg’s scalp as his heartbeat calmed itself, marvelling at the texture of each silver strand under his fingers. He squirmed gently and pushed against Greg’s embrace, smiling softly as he turned a stricken look up at him.

“Surely you would prefer to breathe rather than to suffocate?”

Greg squinted up at him as if contemplating the options before renewing his grip. “Nope.” He mouthed idly at Mycroft’s spent cock. “Gonna keep you right where I can get to you whenever I want. Suck you dry and breathe you in all night long...”

Mycroft shuddered hard, although he wasn’t sure if it was due to the sweat on his body evaporating in the cold air of the room, or because of the earnest sentiment that had just been expressed. But before the involuntary spasm had even passed, he found himself once again with his head on the pillows and the blankets pulled up over both of them.

Greg laid his cheek on Mycroft’s chest there in the dark, rubbing into the hair with a low groan. “I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted _you_ for so long, oh thank Christ it finally happened...”

Mycroft blinked disbelievingly in the darkness, running his fingers up and down Greg’s spine. After a long moment where he simply had no words in his head, he cleared his throat faintly. “I think in this case, it might be more appropriate to thank Saint Nicholas, don't you think?”

Greg sputtered into Mycroft’s sternum, wrapping himself around him as he giggled breathlessly. Mycroft rolled onto his side, cradling Greg’s face and pulling him up into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and almost unbearably hopeful, leaving the both of them somewhat excited and yet bone-tired. Knocking their foreheads together, Mycroft blinked rapidly, his breath catching as Greg hitched a leg up over his hip.

“I’m almost afraid to sleep. I feel as though I’ll wake up to find that this was all a dream.”

Greg smiled against his lips. “It was, though. A dream coming true.” He rubbed their noses together. “And when we wake up, we will be together, skin against skin, and we’ll re-live that dream over and over again.”

“ _Gregory._ That sounds...”

“Wonderful, yeah.” Greg reached up to tweak Mycroft’s nose. “And the sooner we sleep, the sooner we wake up and start living that dream, yeah?”

Mycroft ducked his head under Greg’s chin, petting him softly, tracing his fingers over the curve of his shoulder and along his bicep. Although the heat of Greg’s body and the steady rhythm of his breath was making Mycroft’s eyes droop, he still found himself reluctant to hand himself over to sleep.

“Gregory?”

“Mm?”

“Do you believe in Christmas miracles?”

Greg smiled against Mycroft’s forehead, brushing his nose against his temple. “I believe in you, Mycroft Holmes.”

With a quiet joy radiating from deep inside, warming him right down to his toes, Mycroft melted into his lover’s embrace. He finally allowed his eyes to slip shut and fell fast asleep with the comforting rhythm of Greg’s heart beating in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. Come follow me, and you'll get pretty boys and soft kitties on your dash!


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